


Litost

by kalpa



Category: Fables - Willingham, The Wolf Among Us
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Drug Abuse, Drug Use, Drugs, F/M, Fluff, Hurt, Mystery, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Slow Burn, reader is a drug user, reader is a runaway
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2018-12-17 15:51:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11854794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalpa/pseuds/kalpa
Summary: A string of kidnappings targeting Fabletown citizens catches the eye of Sheriff Bigby Wolf, and with it comes you - a runaway drug addict who's witnessed the most recent crime. Do they risk trusting a Mundy in order to solve the crimes?---An entirely new story set before the comics!---On Hiatus!





	1. Fog

**Author's Note:**

> hey there!  
> im incredibly nervous to introduce this new fic! i just recently completed "the wolf among us" and i fell in love with both the universe it introduced, and the characters! ive never written mystery before, but i hope to bring something new with this story!  
> if this first chapter gets good reception, i will probably continue! (*´-｀*)  
> \--  
> trigger warnings:  
> violence  
> references to drug use (drugs will be a major theme of this story!)  
> \--  
> so with that out of the way, enjoy the story~  
> \---  
> edit: wow this got a lot of kudos considering the hits! ill probably update this fic once a week. theres not gonna be an set day of the week for the update - just whenever i finish it or get around to posting it! thanks!

It was a late evening in Fabletown - defined by the fog that hung in the electric air, dimly lit by the glow from lampposts. A soft yet steady pour of rain punctured the air, painting a haunted scene, puddles rippling with reflections of the moonlight. Only the wretched and desperate murmured among the storm, feet disrupting the false sense of calm in search of either shelter or another drink. 

Some whispered to one another, in search of a temporary haven found in either bodies, drink or drugs. Coy laughter and the flutter of eyes could go a long way - if you found the right victim among the masses huddled over empty glasses. 

It was the perfect time to disappear among the shadows, if that is what one wished. It would be simple to slip from a window, to lock your door and leave your past behind in pursuit of something new… something different. There would only be a spare glance in one’s direction before a dismissal, a mere, gruntled thought of wonder. 

One could join the fog, and disappear into the wanderlust it provided. One could return and be seen the next day, or one could become a piece of paper on Sheriff Bigby’s desk, piling up among the others. One’s name could be added to the quickly growing missing persons case, another face, another name in a manilla folder. 

There were rumors slowly spreading through the mystical Fabletown, a town decorated with figures from both fairy tales and urban legends. They spoke of how the fog ate whoever ventured into it, stole them from this world and returned it to the next. Some warned to not step foot in it, while others bravely stepped through its grasp. The one who did step through returned to ridicule the superstition.

It was the unsuspecting victims that were eaten, stolen from this realm. They stepped foot under the rain only to melt into its puddles, into the reflections rippling under the night sky. They were those who were never seen again. 

Fabletown may have endured a tragedy - marked by secrets and corruption among their own. But the world kept living, the world kept moving…

And the world kept exploring until it happened upon a bridge in the Bronx, hidden among the fog and drizzle of rain. 

You were wet...and cold. Your body was numb, and as you twitched your fingers, you felt your nerves wake up. A static pain caused a soft, guttural groan to come from your dry throat, and you were faintly aware of the soft pattern of rain. But it did not drench you, no. You heard it above you, hitting something solid and hard. 

Another soft groan came from you as you stirred, now moving your legs as you opened your eyes. It was dark above you, and you blinked away the sleep in your eyes, confused. For a few blissful moments, you were puzzled, expecting the warm bed at home. You expected to be curled up in blankets, surrounded by familiar walls and the promise of food and shelter.

Instead, you found yourself looking at the old, weathered stone bridge you had apparently crawled under for both sleep and shelter from the rain. You were thankful for being smart enough to sleep away from the rain, to collapse in a somewhat warmer spot. The river that was beside you, however, gave off enough of a breeze to cool your damp clothing, effectively chilling your skin. With a shiver, you slowly sat up, stretching with a soft grunt. 

Finally awake, you spared a glance around you, squinting through the thick mist that must have rolled in during your sleep. Looking out from under the bridge, you saw it was still late in the night, and you frowned. Why had you woken up when you’d only crashed here a few hours ago? After a few weeks out on the street, you had grown accustomed to sleeping through almost anything.

You’d only woken up when you sensed-

A shiver swept over your body, and this time it wasn’t from the cold. Something was wrong...very wrong. Your breath caught in your throat as goosebumps prickled to life on your skin, and you became very, very aware of your heartbeat in your chest, the blood rushing through your veins. Suddenly, the disgusting smell from the polluted river stung your nose, and you softly gagged, pulling your sweater over your hand. You shoved the fabric of your sleeve up to your nose, trying to not smell the river. 

Now, the rancid smell of your body odor and rain overwhelmed your senses, but it was an improvement. You didn’t dare get to your feet, worried you’d disturb whatever peace you still had as the hair on the back of your neck stood up. 

What was so dangerous? Was someone near you, trying to rob what little you had? You risked a glance behind you, only to see litter and graffiti on the bridge’s walls. In front of you was merely trash. You let out a sigh, trying to shake the feeling. You’d been out in the relentless world of New York for a while now, and the worst thing that’d happened to you was having your ass grabbed a time or two. 

You weren’t gonna die. You were fine. The bridge offered plenty of safety once you got past the awful odor it emitted. 

With a deep inhale, you closed your eyes, reprimanding yourself for being so silly. Clearly, you were just being paranoid, seeing monsters in the shadows when there was nothing. Being on the streets for a few weeks had taught you to be careful, and sometimes you were overly so. 

“God,” you breathlessly laughed, rubbing your eyes. “I need some sleep,” you sighed before laying back down, rolling onto your side. The ground was uncomfortable, and you would much rather sleep on a bench or grass. But sleeping on the bench would risk robbery or police spotting you, and the grass would be wet or, worse, muddy. This...this disgusting place would have to do.

You got as comfortable as you could, and let out a soft sigh as you began to work your way to sleep. Yet...despite the exhaustion that weigh on you, you could not find sleep. Goosebumps still rose your skin, and your body was still softly shivering. 

So you opened your eyes, prepared to get up and move around to calm yourself down when you saw it…

A girl stood across the bridge, pacing as she rubbed her hands. You could barely diminish some of her features due to both the fog and darkness, but you noticed she was bundled up, and somewhat on the taller side. She looked nervous and disheveled, and you briefly wondered if she was in the same situation as you. 

She may have been a runaway - but after a few moments of watching her you recognized her shakes, her movements. Loud sneezes broke the odd sense of calm that hung in the air, and you felt a pang of pity as she twitched. Guttural noises came from her as she paced, and you understood.

She was going through withdrawals, and you hummed, recognizing her struggles. You had been there plenty of times - lusting for the sweet release from reality. You wondered if she was meeting with a dealer, and was curious if she would be generous enough to share. 

You furrowed your brow, pushing yourself up to try and get a better, more stable view of the girl. But as you moved, you heard the echoing sound of footsteps bounce off the stone of the bridge. You stopped, balanced on your elbows. The girl spun around to face the source of the footsteps, and again, you watched her. It was obvious enough she was both nervous and annoyed. Or maybe she was jonesing...you couldn’t exactly tell with the darkness and fog. 

She both shrank in on herself and expelled a false sense of confidence with a hand on her hip. A man stepped out of the shadows, wearing a hoodie and backpack. Unlike the woman, he was confident, sure of himself  and his abilities. He understood he had the goods, and was in control here. The woman, however, was not. 

“Jesus man...I’ve been waiting here for like an hour,” the woman hissed as she rubbed her arms, looking around. She briefly caught sight of you, and you saw her mouth open in surprise. You frowned, holding her gaze before she turned, hastily looking away. Clearly, she did not want to share whatever she was receiving. You sighed to yourself, disappointed. 

“Relax...I got...caught up,” the man said as he took off his backpack. The woman took another step forward, peering over into the backpack. The man looked up, lifting a hand. “Give me some space, Jesus. If you want your stuff, lemme get it,” the man grumbled, and the woman reluctantly stepped back, turning around to look off to the river. You briefly saw that her gaze darted over to where you lay, but her eyes did not linger. She did not seem to care you were there, witnessing this deal. 

Maybe she understood your position just as you understood hers. 

“Come on...I don’t have all night. I need to get home and out of this fucking rain,” the woman said, and the man hummed. She was bouncing on the tips of her toes, trying to keep warm. 

“Don’t like the rain?” he asked, and she scoffed at his question.

“I’m fine with the rain...it’s what it brings that I dislike,” she admitted, and he hummed again, curious.

“What it brings?” he asked, finally done rummaging through his bag. He clearly found what he wanted, but what he pulled out was not...drugs. No...it’s shape was different, looking much harder than any drugs you knew of. You pushed yourself up, trying to get a better view. The woman didn’t notice, too busy bouncing on her feet as she looked out into the water.

“The fog… There’s stories, ya know… Of people going missing in it,” she said, and he made a mocking noise Your breath caught in your throat as he lifted what was in his hand, pointing it at the girl. Holy shit...was that a fucking-?

“Yeah...Well you know what they say about stories?” he asked.

“What?” 

“There’s always some truth to it,” he said, and she turned around now, confused and alarmed. But before she could do anything, the man pulled the trigger. A deafening noise bounced off the bridge’s walls, making your ears ring as you flinched, closing your eyes as you shrank into yourself. You tried to make yourself small, trying to blend in with the ground. A soft squeak came from your throat, and it was, thankfully, covered up by the gunshot. 

It seemed to echo forever, and you faintly heard a heavy drop across the river. You shook, tears streaming down your cold face for a moment. Holy fucking shit… Did he kill her? Did you really just witness a fucking murder? Was she dead? Did he shoot her in the head? 

This is the shit your mother had warned you about… She had told you the world was  relentless, that it wasn’t as easy as it seemed to be. She warned you to be safe, that you would wind up dead if you kept doing what you were. And now here you were…witnessing the death of someone just...like... _ you.  _

You’d been on the streets for weeks at this point, and months back when you were younger. You had witnessed junkies fighting each other for drugs, selling their bodies for drugs, but somehow...you had never witnessed a death. You had never seen someone die.

Until now. 

Under this nasty ass bridge. 

You swallowed a sob, forcing your teary eyes open. The man was pulling his backpack back on, but the gun was still in one hand. He looked...fine. His body language was casual, totally not showing any remorse towards the fact he’d just murdered someone in cold blood.

He toed the body of the girl, cocking his head in thought. What the fuck was he doing? Making sure she was dead? If he had shot her in the head, of course she would be fucking dead.

You covered your mouth with your hands, swallowing a scream as you heard a feminine groan from across the river, seeing the girl briefly move. The noise she had made was wet, probably with blood. The guy chuckled, sounding pleased with himself. Your stomach churned at how happy he seemed. “So...you are one of them..” he murmured, and the girl groaned again, trying to move but finding herself unable to. 

“What...the…” she groaned, and the man shushed her, crouching down. He stroked the girl’s head with his weapon, mocking her inability to move...to do  _ anything.  _ She growled at him, spitting. 

“Ah ah...don’t move dear… Let’s not make this any harder than it needs to be,” he whispered, and the distant sounds of footsteps approached. You shrank back into yourself, steadying your breathing in attempt to move as little as possible. You didn’t want to be shot...to be killed. 

You didn’t want to die. 

“Fuck you,” the woman hissed, and the man let out a heavy sigh. 

“I warned you,” he said, almost to himself as he stood up, aiming the weapon at the woman again. He must’ve reloaded after shooting her first, because he pulled the trigger again, a familiar ringing loudly echoing in your ears. You flinched again, squeezing your eyes shut while simultaneously swallowing a shriek. The faint smell of gunpowder stung your nose as you lay there, breathing heavy and thoughts wild.

It must’ve been a few moments until you opened your eyes.

You shouldn’t have been looking...but you couldn’t look away. You couldn’t move, couldn’t stop watching as a number of people filed down the stairs to approach the woman and man. Some were running, while others were more cautious with their approach. A few were even armed, one seeming to hold a shotgun.

The man stood up, holstering his own weapon before turning to face the others. 

“So?” a woman asked, stopping just in front of him. She crossed her arms, jutting out her hip as though this was another Thursday night.  He nodded, a laugh shaking his chest. 

“We got another,” he said, and they cheered, high fiving one another before moving onto the woman’s body. They pulled her up, and again she groaned, head flopping back. Your stomach churned. You had seen him aim for her head twice now...yet she still moved, still made noises. What the fuck was she? 

This couldn’t be happening. You couldn’t be witnessing this. This had to be a dream, some nightmare, some drug induced hallucination. You squeezed your eyes shut as tight as you could, trying to wake up, to wake up beneath the bridge again. But when you opened your eyes again, you only saw the other figures walking up the stairs. One man had the woman’s body thrown over his shoulder, and she looked up towards you. 

The two of you locked eyes once more, and under the faint glow of the moon, you saw two bullet holes in her forehead. They glistened wet with what you assumed was blood. Her eyes were wet as well, but you knew it was from tears. “Bigby,” she said, just loud enough for you to hear over the river, over the blood rushing in your ears. “Bigby...Wolf,” she said.

You nodded, somehow. Somehow, you forced your body to move, to do something on command. And all you did...was nod. “Okay,” you gasped out. “Okay.” The woman nodded slowly, eyes shutting as she disappeared into the shadows.

The silence was only broken by a loud pop as a car started above before speeding off, a gross noise coming from the vehicle. Other vehicles sped off too, but none sounded quite like the first. 

You couldn’t move. You tried to get up, tried to close your eyes but you found you couldn’t. The cold air that had once been bothering you no longer seemed important, even as you felt it play with your hair and clothing. No...instead you stared at the stairs the woman had disappeared above, remembering the bloody holes in her forehead the moon had softly illuminated. You remembered her groans, the man’s words…

_ “Another one…”  _ He had said, and you didn’t understand. You didn’t understand any of this, any of what had just happened. How was she alive? Why did they attack her? Was it a drug deal gone bad? She was clearly jonesing, and clearly had interacted with the man before.

Why would he do that?

What the... _ what the fuck was going on? _

Finally, a sob tore itself from your throat as you squeezed your eyes shut, letting all the tears you had been holding back flow. Your throat burned, your chest hot as you sobbed, letting all your fear and confusion shine. You curled in on yourself, curling in on your body as you shook viciously. 

You desperately wished to be home, wrapped up in your blankets and security of your home. Fuck if you couldn’t get your drugs, fuck if your mom was overbearing and your father was always checking in on you. They loved you - cared for you even when you gave them every reason not to. And you threw that all away, ran away from home only to end up under this bridge…

Only to end up witnessing a murder.

Snot coated your skin as you finally stopped sobbing, finding an odd sense of calm as you shivered, soft, little hiccups coming from you. Slowly opening your eyes, you found yourself staring at where the girl had lay, somehow still alive. Even through the pain she must’ve been feeling, even as she coughed blood, she had told you a name...a name you hadn’t heard before. 

Bigby... Wolf.  Maybe a friend? A parent? Clearly it had been important to her if she had said it in her final moments… 

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you pressed your palms to the ground, getting on your feet. You stumbled, head pounding from crying and the gunshot. Taking a deep breath, you steadied yourself, swallowing snot and another whimper. You needed to find this Bigby Wolf...anyone. You needed help, and you wouldn’t find it under this bridge.

You didn’t know how long it had been since she’d disappeared with those people, but you knew they were in a hurry and were surely gone. You hoped they were gone - you knew you couldn’t survive even a single bullet to the brain.

Licking your chapped lips, you pulled your cardigan tighter to your body as you slowly approached and climbed the stairs. They were wet from the rain, and the pavement gave off a familiar scent of freshness, of sins being washed away. 

But even with the rain, you could not stop smelling gunpowder, the awful odor the rain emitted.You could not stop seeing the girl’s eyes, the bullet holes in her brain even as the Bronx came into view. The soft neon glow shined through the fog, and you swallowed again.

You wished it was not so late, so you could go to a library and find whoever this Wolf was. You wished it was not so late, so you could find someone, find someone who could help.

But alas...you were alone. You were cold.

You were scared. 

Not knowing where to go, you merely walked, shaking and stumbling.

And you did not stop.  

You weren’t sure how long you had wondered the foggy, empty roads of the Bronx, but based on both the sky and your feet, it had been long enough. Your feet were calloused enough to withstand almost anything, but with your constant stumbling and shivering body, you were strained, tired. 

You understood that you needed to rest. Your body was practically begging you to stop for a moment, to merely breathe and  _ exist.  _ But that was not an option… The girl needed you to find someone...find this “Bigby”. 

The search for this Bigby you were currently leading, however, was going nowhere.

The few bars that had been open knew nothing of him. Many patrons took a look at you and either stayed far away, or came too close. There were plenty of older, drunk men who hit on you, hoping to taste a youth they no longer owned. Despite your exhaustion, you were quick to shut down their advances. 

Any other leads led to dead ends. Every store was closed, and the library you had dared check was not an exception. You weren’t exactly surprised by this. It was rather late, after all. The time was easily around 2 am, or even past then. The air hung heavy with the night, and it weighed on you as you searched for any place to be open. 

“God fucking dammit,” you hissed as you stumbled out of one bar, pulling your wet cardigan tighter against your body. Cold air swept through the street, and you shivered, teeth clacking together. It had been another bust, which led you to turn and continue walking down the street.

Old shops and apartments slowly traveled past you, and you were getting sick of seeing so much brick when you noticed something...odd. There was a staircase leading down into the street a few feet in front of you, light rather brightly lit for it to be a house or apartment door light. Desperate, you approached it with interest.

_ Trip Trap Bar. _

Maybe this place would offer some information, and even if it didn’t, you could sit for a moment if no older men bothered you. 

You let out a sigh of relief as you descended down the stairs, careful to not trip on yourself or slip on the wet pavement. It would be ideal if the patrons of the bar knew of this Bigby, and could give you directions to wherever he was. Hell, directions to the nearest police station would be even better. 

But after hours of walking and asking questions, your hope was fading into the fog. 

You pushed open the door, leading into a wide hallway decorated with wallpaper that reminded you of the seventies. Flyers littered the walls, and you took a brief glance at the papers, noting some bands and invitations of work. Soft music played from speakers you did not yet see. The scent of alcohol and the murmur of voices greeted you, and you shivered as the warm interior embraced your cold body. You closed your eyes, letting the door shut behind you as you took in the heat for a few, blissful moments.

You didn’t notice the voices falter, conversation coming to a low lull. But once you opened your eyes and remembered your mission, you took a few steps forward, revealing the rest of the bar. A pool table was the first object that greeted you, a lamp hanging above it. A few tables tightly hugged the wall, barren and empty. 

But the pool table wasn’t what garnered your attention, no. It was the bar to the side of the pool, something you obviously weren’t surprised to see. A single man hunched over caught your attention though, and a woman with long, white hair lifted her eyes to look at you. She was cleaning a glass with a rag, and her eyes narrowed in surprise. 

The single man was wearing a leather jacket, and tossed a disinterested look over his shoulder at you. The bartender, however, was staring at you with puzzled eyes. Was it that odd for someone to come into a bar at night?

Swallowing your anxiety, you pursed your lips and crossed your arms. A hip was jut out, and the woman’s eyebrows lifted, the corners of her lips turning up. 

“How can I help you?” the woman asked, setting the glass down. The man in leather didn’t react. 

You lifted your head a bit higher, and put on your brave face. “I’m looking for someone,” you said, voice strong and confident. The bartender lost any amusement and crossed her arms, apparently not surprised to be hearing this. 

“If you’re looking for the Woodsman, I haven’t seen him,” she sighed, rubbing the spot between her temples. You frowned, shaking your head. 

“The Woodsman? Who the hell is that?” you scoffed, interested for a story. You briefly debated asking, but decided there were more important questions for you to ask. The bartender was surprised yet evidently relieved by your response. She opened her mouth to say something, but you cut her off. “I’m looking for someone else.” 

The bartender pursed her lips. “And who might that be?”

“Bigby…Wolf?” you asked, and the bartender’s looked to the man in the leather jacket, eyes wide. Said man stopped toying with his glass, turning to look at you now. Now you had their definite attention. You shifted under their gaze, clenching your jaw. “Is there a problem with that?”

The man let out a nasty chuckle, shaking his head as he turned to face his drink. “What the fuck did he do now?” he mumbled, and the bartender threw a pointed look his way. He took a drink, saying nothing. 

The bartender licked her lips, clearly hesitating to answer. What was their problem? It was almost as though you’d just asked to see their bare asses. “The Sheriff?” she asked, and you visibly recoiled at that. She noticed your reaction, placing her hands on the bartop. “What do you need him for?”

You watched her for a few moments, tapping your arm with a finger. “There’s...been a crime committed,” you vaguely answered, trying to hold the bartender’s gaze. She returned your gaze for a moment, clearly watching every move you made. 

The bartender finally shook her head, letting out a noise as she shrugged. “I’ll call him,” she said, turning her back to you as she went to wherever a phone was. Relief shot through your veins, and all exhaustion wore off. You’d finally found someone who knew this Bigby. 

You could finally get help. The very thought had adrenaline replace the relief you felt and you furrowed your brow, taking enough steps forward to place your hands on the bar. The man in the leather jacket looked over at you, and you were taken aback to see he was blind in one eye, a nasty scar running across his skin.

He narrowed his eyes at your expression, one you didn’t even know you were making. His gaze was cast back to his drink, taking a sip to muffle whatever he was about to say. You looked down to your hands before looking to the bartender, who was dialing a number. “I don’t have time for that. Where is the police station? I need to get there  _ now _ ,” you insisted, and the bartender tossed you a look. 

“It’ll be quicker for him to get a cab and come-”

“Not if I run,” you hissed, impatient. Spending however long it took  _ here  _ was not ideal. You leaned forward, holding her gaze intensely. “Where...is...he?”

The directions were vague, but you were repeating them to yourself as you ran. Your weeks spent on the streets, and months from when you were younger, aided you in your sense of where you were heading. You’d always been good when it came to directions.

Your body was aching at first, but as you ran, adrenaline pumped through your veins. The wet sweater that hung around your body didn’t even feel as though it had any effect on you as you ran through the streets of New York. It would take at least 30 minutes for Bigby to arrive at the Trip Trap bar, and you didn’t have that time. 

The advantage of being on foot was you didn’t have to wait for traffic times, or a cab. Instead, you could cut through alleys, jump fences, and do parkour if you had to. When you were younger, you frequently had to evade cops due to your mother causing a storm in every police station about you running away. That, and they always seemed to find you while you were doing drugs.

Now that you were older, the cops didn’t seem to care as much. They seemed to have given up. And you were thankful for that, until now when you  _ needed the cops.  _

Based on the phone call you’d overhead before you ran out, this so called Bigby got into an argument with someone while on the phone. Hopefully, this would give you enough time to reach wherever these...Woodland Luxury Apartments were. Hell, maybe you could even break into an empty apartment. 

You ran out into a street, looking to either side to get your bearings. This definitely looked like Manhattan, which is where the Apartments were located. Bending over to place your hands on your knees, you sucked a deep breath in, closing your eyes as you regained your stamina and caught your breath.

Jesus, it’d been awhile since you’d ran like that. 

With a huff, you stood back up, facing the road. A fancy looking fence was across the street, decorated with high standing stone pillars. There was a well kept yard with high trees beyond the fence. A tall building stretched up into the sky, lit and dark windows lining the bricks. The place definitely seemed luxurious. 

You frowned, looking left and right before crossing the street, intrigued. When you approached the gate that led to the entrance, you noticed a plaque near the gate. You leaned down, squinting to get a better look. 

_ The Woodland - Luxury Apartments. _

A quick glance past the gate made you wonder if the inside of the building was as grand as the exterior. You debated if you should wait for Bigby to come out, before deciding that no, you shouldn’t. Besides, you didn’t wanna stand outside any longer than you had to. 

He was either gonna come to you or you were going to come to him.

You slowly pushed the gate open, surprised to see it wasn’t locked. Most apartments were pretty high with security, especially in New York. You’d learned that the hard way… 

If there wasn’t security outside, you were sure there would be better security inside. It was New York, after all. You approached the door, light streaming out of it as you climbed the steps. Bouncing from one foot to another, you tried to peek inside and see if a security guard was inside. But if there was one, he was out of view.

“Eh… Fuck it,” you sighed, pushing the door open. It squeaked lightly, but not very loudly. Thankful for this, you stepped inside, heat warming over your cold body once again. It sank into your tired, bitter bones and you let out a shaky sigh in appreciation before looking around.

Where was the security guard? Was he gonna leap out of nowhere and rough you up? 

You felt awfully dumb when you found him asleep, reclined back in his chair. You started to let out an incredulous laugh before quickly swallowing it, deciding on a shit eating grin instead. Damn, you wish you found this place earlier. If someone left their apartment unlocked, you could easily find a place to stay for a night or two. 

Or maybe even food…

The thought made your stomach rumble, but you pushed the thought aside. You would have to eat later. Now...you had to find this Bigby. You didn’t run a good mile or two for nothing. 

There was a slate next to the elevator, and you approached it, hoping for some luck on where he would be. A brief glanced revealed the floor and room number for the security office, but you couldn’t help to notice the other resident’s names. Beast? Flycatcher? Those were weird ass names, but you brushed it off with a soft laugh and the shake of your head. 

New York was rather odd, after all. 

You pressed the elevator’s button, before crossing your arms as you took in the heat. The cold and wet sweater of yours was slowly drying off, making the heat much more enjoyable. 

After reporting the...crime, you would take a look around, maybe find a place to crash. Sleeping off tonight sounded like a good idea. After reporting this to Bigby, who apparently was a sheriff, all you could do was hope he caught the kidnappers and found the girl...dead or alive. 

Your thoughts were interrupted with the loud ding of the elevator, and it slowly opened to reveal its empty space. Stepping in, you hit the button for the second floor, leaning back into the railings as the elevator rose slowly. 

It was only a moment or two until it stopped, opening its doors again to reveal a hallway. Inside now, the apartments didn’t appear as luxurious as it preached outside. But you weren’t surprised, nor were you judging. Any place that offered both warmth and shelter was good in your book.

As you stepped out of the elevator, you distantly heard loud voices. One was female, and the other was male, and you perked up at the sound. Voices meant people, and, remembering the distant and arguing voices from the phone at the bar, you figured Bigby was one of the voices. 

You slowly advanced towards where the voices were coming from, passing the Security Office. A quick peek at the door showed it to be dark, and probably empty.  Another door was at the end of the hallway, and you heard the loud voices for a moment before stopping outside.

When you stopped moving, the male voice lowered in volume. “Someone’s here,” you heard him say, and the female voice stopped for a moment before lowering. You couldn’t overhear what she said, but you didn’t care.

You had a crime to report! You would feel like a good citizen if you hadn’t witnessed both a kidnapping and maybe a murder just hours before then. 

With a huff, you raised your hand to knock on the door. But as you brought your hand down to come in contact with the wood, the door opened, thus removing any surface to hit. In front of you stood a beautiful woman with pale skin, black hair and bright, red lips. She looked tired and frazzled and you assumed she was the one you overheard arguing. 

When she saw you, her eyes widened, mouth parting slightly. You took the stunned pause to speak, returning your hand to your side. 

“Um...hi...I’m here to see Bigby...Wolf?” you pressed, inwardly shaking your head at the weird name. You’d clearly wandered into crazy town.

The sound of footsteps behind the woman caught your attention, and you tilted your head for a better look. A tall man appeared behind the woman, visibly taller than her. He looked disheveled with wild hair and tired eyes, and you assumed he was the sheriff. You let out a sigh, relieved to finally have found him. “Fucking finally, I’m here to report a crime,” you said, and the woman stepped to the side, looking to the sheriff. He returned the look before stepping forward, clearing his throat as he crossed his arms.

“What can I do for you?” he said, clearly uncomfortable. You arched your eyebrows at his demeanor and crossed your arms too, furrowing your brows. The memory of the girl’s eyes….the awful gunshot echoing in your ears came back. You could remember the smell of the river, the smell of gunpowder and-

You lifted your eyes to Bigby’s. “There’s been a murder-” you paused, remembering the bullet holes and desperate eyes. “I think.”


	2. Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader is brought back to the scene of the crime, and is left to cope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! this chapter isn't that long, but that's because its a filler. there wasn't too much happening in it, but the next few chapters are gonna be intense. i got big things planned!   
> i'd also like to apologize for any errors in terms of story and grammar as this wasn't read over by my friends before posting!   
> but most importantly, thank you for leaving kudos! seeing the love the story has received made my chest all warm. more kudos means more chapters!  
> enjoy~

“I think?” the man, Bigby repeated as the taxi driver sped off to the crime scene. You sat there, squished against the window with the woman between you and Bigby. Your eyes were looking out the window, taking in the neighborhood as it passed.

You had taken both Bigby and the woman aback with your sudden appearance and words. As far as they knew, they were expecting to meet you at the Trip Trap Bar, but instead you showed up, soaked to the bone and panting. And to make matters better you couldn’t quite explain what you’d seen.

“Yes, I think,” you sighed, raising your arm so you could lean your head on a fist. Even when speaking you didn’t look away, happy to be warm and safe even if for a moment. 

“What makes you think someone was killed?” the woman asked, much more calm and gentle than Bigby. You looked over to her, and saw the genuine worry on her face, making you sigh and relax a bit.

You weren’t being interrogated. They were just trying to do their jobs. 

“I heard a gunshot,” you whispered, turning your gaze back to the night of New York. There were a few more people out onto the streets, surely making their way back home. The fog had begun to disappear as well, the rain now only a few drops instead of a downpour. “And she dropped down...and stopped moving.”

It was silent besides the soft rumble of the taxi, and you closed your eyes, trying to get the memory of the event out of your mind. A hand came to rest on your shoulder, and you jerked away instinctively. You looked over to see the woman dropping her hand, an apology on her lips. “I didn’t mean to scare you,” she said, and you nodded, understanding.

The streets changed people, and the meaning of their touch. 

With a quick look to the streets, you noticed that you were getting closer to the bridge, and you sat up straight. The woman and Bigby noticed your change, and the woman leaned towards the driver. “We’re coming to our stop,” she said, and you intervened.

“Go across the bridge,” you insisted, and the woman’s eyes rested on you for a moment. You could see the worry and concern in her eyes, and you knew it wasn’t just for you. They wanted to find the woman and help her. You were their best shot. “I was on the other side from her,” you explained, and the woman’s lips thinned as she sat back.

When she sat back, you caught the gaze of the sheriff. He was staring at you with narrow, puzzling eyes, and you looked back out my window. 

He gave you the creeps.

Shortly after, the car stopped just over the bridge, and all of you stepped out into the wet street. The street was empty besides a few cars on the street, surely parked and waiting for its owner to wake up for work. And with the fog now gone, the world held a different atmosphere, but as you pulled your cardigan tighter around your frame, you could smell it in the air. The smell wouldn’t leave you. 

“Gunpowder,” you whispered to yourself, remembering the bullet wounds in the woman’s head. There was the sound of footsteps stopping behind you, prompting you to turn around. Bigby stood there, looking at you as he lit a cigarette. The fire that transferred from his lighter to cigarette played with his shadows, making his eyes look yellow. Once he took a hit, he held it in between his fingers, watching you closely. 

“You smell it?” he asked, and you nodded, looking towards the bridge. You wondered what the girl felt as she was dragged out of here...if she even felt at all. She was supposed to be dead, after all.  But you didn’t say anything, and Bigby got the hint, angling his body towards the stairs that led down beneath the bridge. “You comin?” 

You nodded, hastily walking past him. He walked behind you, and the two of you met with the woman at the stop of the stairs, who was waiting for you both. They stood behind you as you looked at the stairs, but you didn’t move.

You couldn’t.

“Are you okay?” the woman asked, and you jerkily nodded, taking a deep breath.

“Sorry,” you said before shaking your head, slowly stepping down the stairs. The smell of gunpowder stung your nose, and when you finally got to the bottom, you saw blood. You felt your body freeze, unaware of Bigby stopping right behind you. 

It was dark, but it wasn’t hard to miss the dark red color that stained the stone. You should’ve screamed, but you couldn’t. You couldn’t move as you remembered the man lifting his gun, the girl’s body dropping…

It was only when Bigby stepped in front of you to survey the scene did you move, and all you did was take in a deep breath. The air shifted behind you, and the woman approached your side, eyes widening at the blood. “Is this where….?” she trailed off, but the question was evident. 

“Yes,” you choked out, heart thumping rapidly in your chest. Bigby didn’t seem disturbed, or he didn’t show that he was. He did a circle around the crime scene, taking in the sight from every angle. Both you and the woman merely watched, not speaking. 

“So what happened?” Bigby finally asked, looking from the pile of blood to you. You shifted, crossing your arms.

“I was asleep,” you began, pointing towards the other side of the river. Both the woman and Bigby followed your gesture, and you continued. “I-I woke up, and I thought it was just because I was cold but I just…” You took a deep breath, rubbing your clothed arms as you remembered laying down, unable to help the girl. 

“It’s okay,” Bigby said, voice forcing you to look up at him. His eyes were trained on you, a look of genuine concern for you in his irises. You could feel the woman shift as well before speaking.

“So you woke up and…?” she said, and you bit your lip. 

“I saw a girl across the river,” you began, focusing on the blood puddle a few feet before you. “She looked nervous… She was shaking and I knew-” Your voice cut off as you felt tears come to your eyes, understanding how desperate she must’ve been. She was willing to do anything to make withdrawals stop...even if it meant meeting with someone underneath a fucking bridge. With a deep breath, you closed your eyes, stopping your crying before it began. “I knew she needed drugs. And I was right. A guy in a hoodie came down and she told him she’d been waiting, and she...she turned her back to him.” You opened your eyes, looking at out the water. You saw what she would’ve seen moments before she was shot, and it made your stomach twist. “She was talking to him about how the fog made her uneasy.” You stopped, taking a deep, shuddering breath in. “He lifted his gun and shot her.”

Silence settled in between the spaces that separated you from both the woman and Snow, and you cast a look back to the blood stain. It glistened under the moon’s influence, playing with its red colors in a sickly manner. “Where did he shoot her?” the woman asked, voice tentative and soft. 

“I thought in the head, but she was alive,” you said, face contorting into distress. You knew tears were coming as the sound of her body dropping echoed in your ears, and you wrapped your arms tighter around your body. You thought you were strong, that nothing could reduce you to this. You had held it together when you rehabilitated for drug use, held it together when you first got your period and had no money and nothing to use…. You held it together every time your entire world was destroyed and replaced with a new one.

But things had changed. Your world had been destroyed again, but now you were destroyed. You had witnessed a death, a murder. You had watched someone die . 

“Alive?” Bigby asked, voice much more harsh as it broke the silence. You shakily nodded, swallowing the fear you felt. You had kept it together until now...and you felt as though you looked like a fool. The people on the street who knew you called you cold, and bitchy. You had been known to show little emotion.

And here you stood - nearly sobbing uncontrollably. 

“She coughed,” you said, voice breaking. With a deep breath, you looked over to Bigby, meeting his gaze. He looked at you with an intensity that made the hair on your skin stand up, goosebumps prick your skin. But you held it… You held the gaze that you knew was pulling you apart. That’s what police did, after all. “He said she was ‘one of them’ and she spoke. She fucking spoke,” you said, and Bigby’s eyes narrowed, flickering to the woman. You followed his eyes and saw her looking at you with wider than usual eyes, mouth slightly ajar. You knew how you sounded and turned your body to face them now. “I know I sound crazy but I’m not. That’s why I said I thought she was dead. She should’ve been dead,” you insisted. 

Bigby and the woman looked at each other for a few moments before the woman took a deep breath, gaze focusing on you. “We don’t think you’re crazy,” she said, and you felt a wave of relief wash over you, but it was short lived. It was hard to be relieved at a crime scene. “Just tell us what happened next.”

Your gaze dropped to her shoes, and continued. “He shot her again, and a bunch of people came down. They were all dressed in black and I couldn’t see them very well...but there were a few men and a woman. They...picked the girl up and carried her away,” you said before pausing, taking a deep breath as your stomach churned. The girl’s eyes came back to light, and you bit down on your lip, still looking at the woman’s shoe. “She looked at me. She was still alive,” you said, voice barely above a whisper now. You briefly feared your words would be carried along the river, and lost in the fog, but they weren’t.

Bigby and the woman looked at each other again, and Bigby cleared his throat. He looked curious now, uncertain even. But you knew they had shared some unspoken knowledge with their expressions, their hurried glances. “How do you know she was still alive?” he asked.

Your gaze went from his eyes to the blood, and then to the stairs. The smell of blood stung your nose, and even the insufferable river couldn’t dull the odor. “She spoke to me,” you explained, and Bigby’s eyes briefly narrowed, nostrils flaring. 

“And what did she say?” the woman asked.

You looked to her, holding her gaze. “Find Bigby Wolf.”

 

After your recounting of the crime, the woman and Bigby had spoken to one another. Their words were hushed, and mostly found in whispers, but you had not tried to listen. No...your gaze had been held captive by the blood on the ground, the memories of the shooting… 

Whatever independent thought you had was hijacked by trauma.

After a few moments the woman had approached you, eyes soft and understanding. “I’m going to head back to the station...would you like to come?” she’d asked, and you knew you had nowhere else to go. You had originally thought you’d scored a good spot for resting under the bridge but it’d been ruined.

You’d nodded, knuckles white as they clenched around your arms. She had pressed her palm against your lower back, and as you shook, you did not mind. You’d been lead back up the stairs, and into a taxi.

The woman had given you a blanket to wrap around yourself once the two of you were back to the Woodland Apartments. You sat in the Sheriff's office, a warm cup of hot chocolate in your hands. The woman sat across from you, eyes trained on both your body and face. You knew she was worried, but it was obvious she wasn’t just worried for you.

She was worried for this town, and for whatever reason she’d been arguing with Bigby over. You didn’t ask, instead losing yourself in the gradual warmth that set itself over your body. 

“You can call me Snow,” the woman said, voice gently breaking the silence. That prompted you to turn your eyes from the liquid in your grasp to her face. She was watching you carefully, eyes flitting from your mouth to your eyes and your mouth again. 

The name was odd, yes. But it wasn’t the oddest thing you’d seen that night, and so you nodded, swallowing the fear that was still shaking your bones. And now that you were warm, it was inevitable that the trauma would sink back in and take root in your chest. You wanted to be around someone for as long as possible...to keep yourself distracted and mind led astray. 

“My name is (Y/N),” you whispered, adjusting your grip on the cup. The marshmellows drifted among the sea of chocolate, and you traced its path with your eyes. “Thank you.”

Snow understood, crossing her legs while simultaneously straightening her skirt. You could tell she was a clean lady, someone who was cut straight. But she was kind and that’s all that mattered. “You’re welcome.”

Silence returned, settling itself over the both of you. It was a massive force, weighing heavy on your already tense chest. You adjusted your grip on the mug before swallowing roughly, trying to find something to say. 

But before you could speak, Snow stood, forcing you to move your gaze upwards. She had that look of business back on her face, and you knew what was coming. She had been kind - given you something to drink and a place to warm up. But now was time for your eviction.

Before she even spoke you took another sip of you drink, standing as you did so. You knew it was time to leave, and you didn’t feel like having her sugar coat her next sentences. “I best be going,” you said, setting the cup down on Bigby’s desk. Snow followed your gaze, briefly surprised before smiling a fake smile.

“Do you have a safe place to sleep at tonight?” she asked, and you knew she was just being kind. She had no resources for you...no place for you to rest. People always tried to be kind, but when you actually needed something, they were unable to provide.

So you nodded. “Yes...thank you.” And with that, Snow opened the door, revealing you to a long, empty hallway. You stepped out, throwing a look over your shoulder. Snow nodded to you, and you returned the gesture with a tight smile, wondering what you were gonna do.

There was no way in hell you were going back outside...not after tonight. You’d seem a woman be shot twice, and possibly die. Sleeping outside was gonna be rough for a while. So with a deep breath, you approached the elevator, not surprised to see it slide open immediately.

You stepped into the elevator, finger briefly hovering over the ‘L’ for lobby before pausing. You pursed your lips before grinning, running back over the lobby to see Snow just leaving. She was surprised to see you running towards her, and paused, opening her mouth only for you to interrupt with a loud, “Hey, do you have a bobby pin? My hair is so wet and in my face.”

The pin wasn’t for your hair.

Getting in the apartment wasn’t that difficult. The lock was old easily gave way after roughly ten minutes. You had experience with lock picking considering your time spent out on the street.

Sometimes staying alive meant playing dirty.

As the door opened, the overwhelming smell of dust made you sneeze  _ and  _ cough at the same time. It was an unpleasant experience, and you flicked on the lights while the door shut. You were revealed to an empty, barren apartment. You were thankful the room was unoccupied, and even though there was no furniture, it would be much more secure to sleep in here for the night. 

Plus, there was even your own bathroom!

With a sigh, you threw the blanket on the ground, shrugging off your wet cardigan as well. You held it in your arms, eyebrows furrowed as you inspected it. With a sharp sniff, it still smelled like both rain and the river you’d slept by. And even if gunpowder did not remain, you could not forget its smell.

Nor could you forget the stinging smell of copper...of the girl’s blood.

You abruptly threw the cardigan at the wall with a yell, the angry thump of the clothing hitting the surface shortly following after. Hot tears dripped down your cheeks as you let the fear and sadness overcome you. It had been gnawing at your fingers, crawling up your spine ever since that gun had been fired. It was potent and dangerous, and it was destroying you from the inside out.

So you cried, collapsing onto your knees as harsh sobs wracked your body. The hot water on your face kept coming as you fell forward, head on the ground. There were screams from your throat at first, but they soon dissolved into whimpers, and then finally, silence. Your body stilled, tears now a soft pool on the ground.

You had felt vulnerable out in New York, yes. You had bled freely on your period, had starved for a week, been publicly shamed by people accusing you of being on welfare… You had seen people be assaulted, but never killed. You’d heard the horror stories, the awful tales teachers were supposed to tell you.

And yet you still did it. You still slept in the rain, on benches, stole clothes from thrift stores… You still did it.

And here you were.

With a sniffle, you sat back up, rubbing any snot away. You felt raw...almost as though all emotions had been exhausted for the day. Hell, you were exhausted for a solid month. So you picked yourself up, and entered the bathroom, pleased to see there was a tub. You turned the handles, and hot water poured out into the tub. 

You stripped, and dissolved into the hot bath. You rubbed away the dirt and grime on your skin, skin driven red and raw. You did not cry, and you did not scream. 

No.

You survived. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!  
> make sure to leave KUDOS as more kudos means more chapters !   
> make sure to leave a COMMENT because comments earn my love and give me motivation!  
> and most importantly...  
> have a great day/night~!


	3. Pack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader encounters a new threat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! sorry for taking so long to post this. im still struggling to sit down and write so much, and i wanted to wait until now to post as my family and i are going on a vacation tomorrow!  
> your guys' support means so much to me. a comment means so much, kudos means so much... just knowing you guys are liking this story is worth writing it  
> this chapter was fun to write, and next chapter will be too. it's going to be intense. :)  
> but dont worry- some good bigby action is going to come up soon! ;)  
> enjoy~

You woke up to a bright light shining in your face - persistent in its attempts to stir you from sleep. A soft groan came from you as you rolled over, pleased to realize you were warm and not wet, for once. New York’s mornings often left you chilled and slightly damp from condensation, but the cover your stolen room provided spared you from those effects.

With a yawn, you stretched, a few joints cracking and popping. The floor may not have been super comfortable, but it was much nicer than benches and the ground. So you opened your eyes, feeling better than you had ever since you’d run away. 

The empty room greeted you with it’s old walls and creaky floors, and you rubbed the back of your head, combing your fingers through the tangles of your hair. A quick glance outside the window revealed that it was late morning, and you weren’t surprised that you’d slept so long. By the time you’d fallen asleep on the floor, it’d been around 5 in the morning. 6 hours of sleep was all a runaway needed, after all. 

You slowly got to your feet, walking over to the bathroom. You’d take a shower after you got some food from dumpsters, as most places would be throwing out leftovers from breakfast around then. But you quickly drank from the sink and splashed some water on your face, effectively waking you from your slumber now.

You couldn’t help but stop to stare yourself, however. It’d been a while since you’d had the privacy of your own bathroom. Most of the time, you went into empty gas station’s bathrooms and cleaned yourself. But now… Now you were alone, and with isolation came thoughts.

Memories of the previous night washed over you, and despair settled itself in your chest. Memories of the smell of gunpowder...of blood in the air...the stain of red on the ground and the desperate eyes staring at you from the shadows... Breathing became difficult, your vision became blurry... 

You placed your hands on either side of the sink, leaning over the vanity with a sharp inhale. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to forget the woman’s eyes, the sound of the gunshot, and the smell of blood…You tried to forget it all.

Even after leaving the crime scene, you’d smelled it all, remembered it all. It never left you…not even in the rain, the bath, or your sleep. You’d hadn’t dreamt much, but you did have nightmares. A gun being shoved against your forehead...a gun stuck in your mouth...a loud car chasing you down the street, inevitably crashing into you and breaking all the bones in your body…

The harsh sound of a shower starting just on the other side of the wall stirred you from your thoughts, and you opened your eyes only to see yourself. You hair was tangled, but thankfully not too grungey. A quick sniff revealed you didn’t smell that bad either, and you pushed off of the vanity, pulling off a tanktop you wore underneath your t-shirt so you could crack open the apartment door. 

With a determined huff, you walked over and shoved the article of clothing between the wall and the door, thus leaving it slightly ajar. You remembered the security guard at the entrance of the apartments, and you hoped he was still asleep. After scoring this place, you really didn’t want to go back onto the streets for a little while.

If he was asleep and questioning you, you could just use the excuse of meeting with the sheriff. You weren’t exactly lying, after all. 

You crept outside into the hallway, pleased to see that it was empty. And whoever was in the room next to you was currently taking a shower, so you were set in terms of laying low. With a smile, you confidently strolled over to the elevator, entered, hit a button and lowered to the lobby floor. As the doors opened, you were met with an empty lobby and the security guard missing. A soft “hell yeah!” was muttered under your breath as you grinned, relieved. You understood he may have left for breakfast or even lunch, and strolled on out of the building, in somewhat high spirits.

While the...murder was certainly one of the scariest moments of your life, you were pleased with this opportunity it provided you. Without the murder, you wouldn’t have found these apartments, and would’ve been on the streets for who knew how long. You may not be able to stay there forever, but for the time being, it was a good set up. Plus, there were some small cafes and restaurants around the apartments so you could dumpster dive pretty easily. A library wasn’t too far either, so you had internet access and book access. 

The key to staying sane was reading or constantly moving, and you weren’t planning on moving for a while. 

What you were doing, however, was finding some food. Your stomach was rumbling as you walked over to the exit gate, looking around for places to scavenge. When you’d been running here last night, you’d been a bit too busy to fully get an idea of the neighborhood. But you were sure there would be a few spots to look at.

With a sigh, you pushed open the gate, revealing you to the bare world. There weren’t too many people on the streets, and you remembered that normal people were busy with jobs. But you, however, were a runaway. And your job was to get to the next day.

So you pulled your cardigan tighter against your chest and set foot down the road, crossing it first. You would then survey the roads in search of a food place, and then scour the alleyways in hope of a leftover pancake or waffle. Your stomach let out a loud noise at the thought, and you silently wished for lots of butter and syrup on whatever you found.

Although after the few weeks out here, you weren’t too picky. 

The weather was pleasant enough. The sun was bright in the clear sky, and the wind smelled like fall as it tickled your nose. Even with the vivid sun, however, there was a chilly undertone to the wind as it hit your body and played with you hair. It wasn’t too bad, thanks to your cardigan. 

Through the smell of dying leaves and new weather, however, you could smell food. Again, your stomach grumbled in both need and anticipation and you began to walk faster, following the scent. You turned the corner and saw a rather large cafe with tables out on the sidewalk. You grinned and turned around, heading back down where you came in search of the inevitable alley.

You didn’t have to search for long, as it quickly appeared on your right. You turned and began to walk down the dark, dirty alleyway, stomach turning and mumbling. Cardboard and trash littered the dark cement you walked across, some spray paint on the buildings surrounding you. But that wasn’t what you were looking for.

Hell no, you were looking for food. You looked up from the ground. There was a large dumpster maybe twenty feet away, near the other side of the alley, and you let out a sigh of relief. You probably found the dumpster that belonged to the cafe. 

You began to dream of pancakes and waffles, but just as you were ten feet away, a number of people stepped out from the sidewalk at the other end. They were a stark contrast from the bright sun, wearing baggy, black clothing. They turned, and faced you, bodies outlined by the day’s glow behind them. You stopped, confused the sight.

You wondered if they were homeless as well, and you had unknowingly went into their territory. But they didn’t look homeless...not from what you could tell. They were all wearing decent looking clothing, and there was no indication they had been on the streets. 

That wasn’t good.

What was even more alarming was the sheer number of them. There were 6 people all staring at you with eyes you couldn’t see but could feel. And you  _ feel _ they were picking you apart. 

Your breath caught in your throat as one took a step forward, tilting their head to the side in what you assumed was thought. You felt as though you were some small, timid bunny...and they were wolves. You were the prey and they were the predator, sizing you up for their inevitable feast. 

The noise of the pedestrians and cars around you became dull as you took a step backwards, not turning your body away from them. You felt that if you took your eyes off of the people, they would attack you.

They would kill you. 

The person’s head snapped back into position, and they stiffened. The others seemed to look to them then, almost as though they were waiting for permission to pounce, to lunge and rip your throat out. You thought you saw the person’s lips move, but you didn’t hear them. Instead, you heard your heart thumping, your blood rushing as they nodded.

And they began to run towards you. 

A loud yelp came from you as you spun around, worn out sneaker soles slipping on the concrete. You sprinted back the way you had come from, veins lit on fire with adrenaline and the need to survive. You could hear the rapid and insistent footsteps behind you, and you risked a glance over your shoulder. They were steadily gaining on you with practiced efficiency, almost as though they had done this before. And you could easily said you weren’t trained to outrun crazy people trying to hurt you.

You could outrun cops, yes. But NYPD wasn’t the most esteemed police department, and usually you knew of the officers in the area. You knew how slow they were, how dumb they were, and so on. But you didn’t know these people. All you knew was that they were fast, and you were merely quick.

They could run forever, and you could not.

So you grabbed a garbage can on the side of the alley and threw it behind you. It crashed into the ground, and it sounded as though someone had hit it, a grunt following the loud bang. But you didn’t risk a look behind you, no. Instead, you turned right at the end of the alleyway, realizing your best shot of getting away was the apartments.

That was if you could outrun them. It was a five minute walk to this cafe, so it’d be a two and half minute run. You weren’t sure if you could keep this speed up from that long, and even if you could, the people were faster.

They were a pack of wolves...working together to corner you so they could sink their teeth into your skin. You could hear some on your right, while some were on your left. They were coordinated, and they would get you.

They would kill you. 

So you began to scream.

“Help!” you screamed in between breaths, sucking in air through your teeth. You pumped your arms as you sprinted across the street, going around a car. You heard someone slide over the hood, and a quick glance revealed a man merely a few feet from you. His hoodie covered most of his body and face, but when he ran, you could see various features.

His face was stoic, eyes narrowed in concentration. There was no fear or sweat on his pale skin...instead, there was a glint of animosity in his eyes. He would rip you apart.

Fear made your chest tighten, and any hunger pangs you had felt drifted away with the icy cold adrenaline in your veins. It was hot as it ignited you from the inside out, but it was cold in its shock across your body. 

You ran faster, somehow. You increased your speed, something that amazed you for a moment before you remembered your situation. These people were after you...but why? Why did they corner you in the alley, and why were they now chasing you through New York?

Again, you realized those questions would have to be asked later as people in hoodies were currently chasing after you and possibly trying to murder you. So once more, you sucked in a loud breath and screamed, “Help me! Please!”

You turned a corner and saw the apartment building down the road. You felt relief flood through your chest, and, relief and adrenaline mixing, you began to run faster, screaming pleas for help. You could hear someone behind you, could practically feel the tremors of their feet hitting the ground. But you tried to run faster, as fast as you could.

And you saw someone step out from the gate of the apartments. 

So you opened your mouth as wide as you could, stumbling over your foot as you screamed, “HELP! PLEASE!”

They looked to you now, and you realized it was Bigby, the sheriff. His eyes locked onto you, and then looked behind you, narrowing significantly. The footsteps behind you suddenly stalled, but you didn’t stop running until you tripped over your foot again, collapsing onto the ground.

The ground scraped your legs, and darkness consumed your vision as you must’ve banged your head on the ground. The only thing you felt were warm, large hands on your shoulders, pulling you up. 

“(Your Name)?” Bigby asked, and you blinked away the darkness, revealing Bigby’s concerned face. It was the most emotion you’d seen on him so far, and you were preoccupied with his eyes for a moment before remembering your situation. 

With a gasp, you spun around and out of Bigby’s grasp, looking down the road you’d just sprinted across. You were expecting to see the people running after you, latching their claws onto your skin to drag you for their feast. But there was no one.

There was nothing. 

All wind had been ripped out of you as you sat there, looking at the tranquil street. If you hadn’t just experienced what you did, it would've been a normal day...a nice afternoon. But it wasn’t. You had just nearly been kidnapped, abducted or killed. 

You weren’t aware you were crying until your body jerked with a sob, eyes quickly closing to shed tears. They dripped down your face, and you curled in on yourself, legs pulled up to your chest and head resting on your knees. 

Something touched your back, and you jerked away before remembering Bigby was here now. You relaxed slightly, swallowing a sob as you looked up towards where he’d been. He looked lost, surprised even. You were sure he didn’t expect to walk outside and witness a possible abduction. But you saw the concern in his eyes, and you sniffled. “Are you okay?” he asked you, and you hiccuped, nodding as you rubbed away the tears on your face. 

“Y-Yes,” you hiccuped, and Bigby looked from you to the street, surely thinking over what he’d just seen. You sniffled before standing, stumbling when putting pressure on your foot. His hands wrapped around your arms, steadying you and preventing you from falling. Embarrassed but too tired to truly care, you thanked him under you breath. 

“Come on let’s get you inside,” he said softly, and you did not refuse. 

 

You hadn’t expected to be back in the sheriff’s office so soon, especially after a kidnapping attempt. Even though you weren’t cold, you were shaking, and Bigby looked at you with concern from across his desk. He leaned forward. “Can I uh...get you anything? Water?” he asked, and you jerked your gaze away from the spot on the floor you’d lost yourself in.

“No,” you said, surprised by how steady your voice sounded. But Bigby knew you weren’t in the best state of mind. Who would be? 

He nodded, leaning back in his chair as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He bounced it off his hand, pulling a cigarette out with his teeth. Once he caught your gaze, he held one out for you. You would usually turn it down, but considering everything that’d happened in the past day or two, you would make an exception.

With a sigh, you took the cigarette from his hands and put it in your mouth, leaning forward for Bigby to light it. Once he did, you leaned back, taking a long, stress relieving drag. Watching the smoke dissipate in the air was calming, and the tight, winding knot in your chest began to untie. 

But you could not forget the fear you had felt...the people stepping out from the shadows and casting a larger darkness than even the night could. You had thought your terror had ended under the bridge, but it had followed you as though it were a monster. And you supposed it was just that. It was a ghost, haunting you not just in your sleep but now in your life.

But now it couldn’t just haunt you. These people...could hurt you. They would hurt you.

“Who are they?” you whispered, and you saw Bigby shift out of the corner of your eye. But you couldn’t look away from the one spot on the ground...the brown carpet, brown wall stained with tobacco… You tried to look away, but you lost yourself in its simplicity, its safety. 

You needed that. 

“I don’t know,” Bigby said, voice deep with thought. It rumbled like a bear, a wolf. 

You took another long drag from the cigarette, thinking on the people. They were dressed like assassins… They wore dark colors, mostly black. You didn’t remember their faces as they were covered by hoods. And they wore backpacks...big backpacks on their back…

_ A man stepped out of the shadows, wearing a hoodie and backpack. _

The end of the cigarette fell off onto the ground. “It’s the people,” you breathlessly said.

“...who?”

“The people from under the bridge,” you explained, finally moving your gaze to Bigby. He was looking at you with narrowed, analytical eyes. “They wore the same thing. They were the only people who would want to kidnap a fucking runaway,” you said, and he sighed, reaching up and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Shit,” he sighed.

You couldn’t agree more. 

With a shaky breath, you breathed in the dying cigarette, trying to steady yourself. If they were after you, what could you do? You were homeless...a runaway! You had no safe, direct access to food, and your only shelter was some apartment you’d broken into and you couldn’t say there forever!

“I’m fucked,” you said, surprised by how sure of yourself you sounded. It almost sounded as though you didn’t care, that you didn’t mind you were probably gonna be kidnapped. But obviously you cared.

“Do you...have a place to stay?” Bigby asked, voice sounding hesitant and awkward. He definitely wasn’t the most charming sheriff, but with a glance over at him, you knew he cared. He was looking at you with big brown eyes, eyebrows furrowed in a permanent scowl. 

You pursed your lips. “No,” you said, and he nodded, taking a long drag from his cigarette. Yours was now nothing but a bud and some ashes, so you dropped it into his ashtray. It was full. 

“Let me talk to Snow about arranging something for you,” he said, and your eyes widened in shock, and a feeling of hope replaced the knot that had existed just moments ago. He saw your expression and raised a hand in a subduing manner. “Now, I can’t guarantee that something will happen. We’re short on staff and funds, but we might be able to get you some housing here for a week or two if you’re in danger. And it definitely seems like you stepped on someone’s shoe,” he explained and you couldn’t help the smile that lifted your lips. 

“Thank you,” you said, shaking your head in astonishment. “I don’t know how to repay you,” you whispered, and Bigby sighed.

“You don’t have to repay me. Just stay alive and don’t get caught by those-”

The happy, touching moment was interrupted by a loud growl from your stomach, and your face felt hot with embarrassment as you clapped a hand over your tummy. Bigby looked at you with wide eyes for a moment before smirking, a soft, amused noise coming from his throat. “Sorry,” you apologized, silently chastising your body for being so annoying and troublesome. 

“No need to apologize. When was the last time you ate?” he asked you, making you stop to narrow your eyes in deep thought. When  _ was  _ the last time you’d eaten something? You counted back each hour from the present to your last meal, and remembered eating a half eaten chicken sandwich around 6pm the day before. 

“Um...yesterday around 6,” you said, and Bigby sighed, looking at the watch on his hand. His lips thinned as he subtly shook his head, and you grinned a sheepish smile. “Sorry?” you said, and Bigby’s eyes flitted to you, not amused. 

“I suppose you do have to eat don’t you?” he said, reaching up and rubbing the back of his neck. You shrugged.

“Yeah, kinda.”

“And those creeps could still be around, huh?”

“Yeah, probably.”

Bigby let out a big sigh, and stood up. Your eyes followed his movement in confusion, and he dropped his dead cigarette in his ashtray. “C’mon, let’s go get something to eat,” he said, and you watched him, not understanding his words. For a moment, he just looked at his watch before moving his attention to you. “You ready?” he asked, and you grinned, cheeks hurting as you stood.

“Yes...I am so fucking ready.””

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> like what you read?  
> leave kudos! kudos help get this fic recognized!  
> leave a comment! comments help me improve and push me to write more!  
> and most importantly...  
> have a great day/night~!


	4. Breakfast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You get breakfast, and things don't go to plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha...did ya'll think i forgot about this story?  
> nope, here's the newest update.  
> im currently working on 3 fics (1 not yet posted...but it is dishonored if youre into that) so don't be surprised if updates are scarce and random. but dont forget about this fic!   
> it's gonna get good...i promise.  
> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> violence  
> drug reference
> 
> enjoy~~~

Walking wasn’t too difficult with your injured foot, and you explained that due to your intense hunger. It was making your stomach rumble, twist and turn. But the promise of food made it hurt less.

You were still shaken up after being chased, but walking beside Bigby made it much less terrifying. You weren’t shaking as much beside him, the persistent smell of tobacco stinging your nose. Once the two of you stepped in front of the alleyway the goons had chased you in, he offered you the cigarette.

You didn’t refuse, and took a few long drags. 

In all honesty, you didn’t expect Bigby to offer breakfast. You expected him to leave you on your own, just as every other cop had done. When you’d first run away, they’d bring you home. Now, they ignored you, and left you to suffer.

But Bigby...he cared for some reason. He was going to put you into some protection program, and was taking you out to get food. He’d even mentioned having Snow take you to a Goodwill for some cheap clothing. 

You had no idea why he cared, but was too hungry to ask.

The cafe was thankfully still serving breakfast by the time the two of you were seated, and wasn’t too busy. The smell inside made your stomach growl embarrassingly loud as you sat down at a small table, right across from Bigby. The man looked up at you with a smirk on his lips. “Hungry?” he asked, and you smiled sheepishly at him.

You tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear, pulling open the menu to cover your blush. “How could you tell?” you joked, and a gruff chuckle came from Bigby as he opened up the menu too.

You had your heart set on pancakes...every single pancake they offered. You also wanted eggs, bacon and hashbrowns. Fuck man, you just wanted to  _ eat.  _

Your need for food must’ve shown clearly on your face as the waitress approached the table, a smile on her face. “Ready to order?” she asked, voice happy and cheerful. You nodded, looking to Bigby. He gestured for you to go on.

“I’d like “Mama’s Breakfast” please...with bacon,” you said, trying not to add on too much. You wanted all the food they could offer, but didn’t want to bankrupt Bigby. He had always been incredibly kind to you, and you didn’t wanna fuck him over. 

You may have been homeless, a runaway...but you weren’t with heart.

You felt the man’s gaze on you, and you briefly feared he would be upset with the cost. You met his gaze, biting your lip. “That all?” he asked, before the corners of his lips curled up. “You sounded rather hungry.”

You understood his words and their meaning, and couldn’t help the grin on your face to shine. You looked back to the waitress. “With some eggs and hash browns too, please,” you ordered, and she nodded, looking to Bigby. He waved her off, not ordering anything. The gesture made you confused, but you didn’t speak until after the waitress took the menus. 

“Not hungry?” you asked him, and he shrugged, leaning back in his chair whilst crossing his arms. 

“Already ate,” he said, and you hummed. 

“I take it you’re an omelette man,” you teased and he shook his head.

“No. More of a sausage man,” he replied, and you rolled your eyes. For some reason, he was smirking to himself at his comment. You couldn’t help the interesting smile that appeared on your face, and you placed your elbows on the table, leaning forward a little bit.

“What?” you asked, breathless with incredulity. Bigby shook his head, literally wiping the smile off his face with his hand. 

“Nothing… Inside joke,” he said, and you leaned back, rolling your eyes with a sigh.

“Is it an inside joke if there’s no one to tell it to?” you asked, and Bigby shrugged, leaning back in his chair. He reached into his pocket, pulling out the packet of cigarettes. You watched him hit the box, pulling a cigarette out with his teeth. He lit it, and you bit your lip to hide a smile.

You began to count silently, watching the waitresses look and talk behind the counter. They murmured to one another, and you could tell they were choosing who to send to ask the big, scary man to put out his cigarette. “They’re gonna ask you to put it out,” you quietly said, still watching the woman. Their eyes were on a taller woman, who seemed strong and brave. She was probably the one who dealt with the most creepers in later hours. 

“Don’t care,” Bigby said. You believed him, and leaned back, crossing your arms as you watched the waitress approach the table. She had a large tray with plates on it, and your stomach rumbled in anticipation. You sat up straight, grinning as she set the food down. 

Immediately, you dug in, setting into the eggs first. They were deliciously hot in your mouth, and you let out a low groan of satisfaction at the taste. When you opened your eyes, you saw the waitress facing Bigby, and based on his expression, she’d asked him to put his cigarette out. 

Bigby looked to her with narrowed eyes, pressing the cigarette down onto the table. It sizzled with death, and the waitress smiled tightly before walking away. You took another bite of your eggs. “Why do you smoke?” you asked after swallowing, and Bigby briefly looked to you before shrugging. 

“Stress,” he bluntly said, and you nodded, understanding all too well the relief of your own personal demon. You dropped the subject, merely enjoying all the food in front of you. It was silent then, besides the other people eating and speaking. There was the soft clink of plates and glasses around you, the soft murmur of conversation, and the grumble of an occasional car going by. You dare say it was peaceful if you didn’t tense up whenever the bell rang, notifying the arrival of someone.

There was some gut feeling underneath all your food that said the people weren’t done with you. They had hunted you, followed you. Why would they give up now? What would one man do to keep them from taking you? Just shoot him and they have you.

You tried not to think about, continuing to eat your food. Bigby merely watched the street, silent. You didn’t feel compelled to talk with him, as the two of you were sharing a comfortable moment of quiet. 

The ring of the door’s bell made you toss a look over your shoulder, spotting someone in black. You went back to eat your breakfast, not understanding what you’d seen at first. But once you realized the person had been wearing a black hoodie, you quickly looked back, eyes wide and hand shaking. All feeling of warmth and comfort drained from you, and the throb in your ankle came back full force. 

The person glanced over to you, and you quickly looked back to your food, suddenly not hungry anymore. You felt the blood drain of your face as goosebumps pricked your skin, heartbeat suddenly faster. 

“(Y/N)?” 

Bigby’s voice made you look up to see the man looking at you, a frown on his face. You knew how you must’ve looked - pale and scared. But he didn’t press further, instead looking behind you. He caught sight of the person in the black hoodie, eyes narrowing as his nostrils flared. You would’ve smiled if you weren’t absolutely scared shitless. 

You caught sight of Bigby’s fist clenching, of him tensing and getting ready to stand. But something he saw made him untense, and sink back into his seat. His brown eyes flicked to you. “It was just some kid. They got a booth...he’s meeting up with a girl,” he told you, and you let out a sigh of relief.

Despite the relief you felt, your stomach was twisting and turning as everything really sank in. You had been terrified and hysterical after escaping the people running after you, but with how hungry you were, it didn’t fully sink in. Now, stomach full, you began to truly understand the situation.

You were a wanted woman. It was entirely possible the people behind the killing the previous night were after you as you witnessed the crime. You had an idea of what the people looked like, the crowd they targeted, and could recognize their voices. No shit they would want to come after you. Would they kill you? Your stomach sank at the thought, and you stopped poking your eggs, setting your fork down. 

Bigby noticed your sudden loss of interest, and the abrupt frown on your face. His eyes narrowed and he crossed his arms, peering at you. His gaze was intense, and you remembered that he was a sheriff, not just some random, kind man. His job was to read people, and that’s exactly what he was doing. 

“Eggs that bad?” he asked, and you couldn’t help but crack a smile, the tension softly breaking. 

“No, they’re delicious,” you replied, and they were. They were warm and fluffy, reminding you of Sunday mornings when you were young. 

“I’ll have to get them next time,” he said, and you bit your lip, smiling subtly. 

“With sausage?” you asked and he smirked, nodding.

“With sausage,” he said, and you chuckled softly, feeling better as you slowly began to eat the eggs again. You didn’t eat too much too fast though, still nervous you’d have another mild breakdown. But you did feel better as you sat there, eating with Bigby.

With Bigby merely sitting there, you felt safer. You didn’t know the man very well, but he did save your life. And more importantly, he was trying to make your life better by (officially) getting you a room and taking you out for breakfast.

“Why’d you help me?” you asked after swallowing some food, and Bigby looked from the street to you, surprised at your question. For a moment, the two of you merely looked at each other until you began to eat your hashbrowns. 

“Well, it wouldn’t look good if I let some girl be kidnapped and possibly killed, now would it?” he said, and you rolled your eyes, swallowing. 

“No, I mean...why’d you offer me protection?” you asked, pausing in your eating. You looked at Bigby from under your brow, trying to seem both casual yet serious in your question. You didn’t wanna make the situation tense again, yet you genuinely were curious. It wasn’t everyday a cop treated you well.

Bigby shifted, and you saw him reach for his pack of cigarettes. Once his finger actually made contact with the pack, he paused, lips thinning slightly as he frowned. Sighing, he put his hand back on the table and looked at you, although not directly. “You’re a target now. I’m not going to let you get snatched up and possibly be treated like...the girl,” he said, referencing to the bridge. You bit your lip at the memory of the girl’s eyes, but pushed past the nausea it called. “Is there...something wrong with that?” You saw how he became uncomfortable, defensive near the end of his sentence. 

You shook your head, almost laughing. That made Bigby look confused. “No, I do appreciate not being kidnapped and possibly murdered,” you said, and Bigby’s lips turned up in the ghost of a smile. “It’s just…” you paused, licking your lips. The man across the table noticed, but didn’t say anything, instead waiting. Would you open up to him? He was a cop. Cops didn’t care. They just wanted to hurt and get a promotion..right?

You hesitated, biting your lip before taking a deep breath. Your eyes lowered to your plate as you summoned the courage to open up. He had saved your life right? He seemed to care...right? You closed your eyes, calming yourself before looking straight at Bigby only to find he wasn’t looking at you.

No, his eyes were behind you, watching someone or something. At first, you were confused, but then you remembered. You remembered the chill of being chased, of your life being threatened, and that same chill settled over you. You felt the blood rush out of your face as you turned, looking outside the window.

There was one person standing outside, back to the cafe. They appeared to be talking on the phone, looking casual and at ease. They wouldn’t have struck out if it wasn’t for the black hoodie and backpack they were adorning. They looked back at you.

And put away their phone. 

Something wrapped around your wrist, and you were pulled up from your chair. Suddenly, you were on your feet, stumbling around various tables and being pulled into a narrow hallway. You faintly realized Bigby was pulling you into a kitchen, but only because a waitress came swinging out with a tray full of water. The man pulling you unapologetically spilled it, causing her to curse and yell.

But you didn’t stop.

You didn’t stop as Bigby pulled you through the kitchen, dodging chefs and dishwashers as they did their job. Some yelled at you... _ most  _ yelled at you. They pushed you two, threw peppers at you and threatened to call the cops. It all felt like white noise, events disconnected from your reality. 

But you did manage to look back towards where the two of you had sat. There were more men in black hoodies out front, all approaching the diner. One reached into his pocket.

You heard the bell ring, and a gun fire.

A woman picking up food dropped to the ground, and others scattered and screamed. Your eyes widened, jaw dropping as you turned to look back at Bigby. He did not look back as he opened up the back door, and you found yourself back in the alleyway you’d come from only an hour ago. 

Bigby let go of you, and you stumbled forward, tripping but thankfully recovering. The world was spinning as you stood up straight, trying to calm your breathing. “Bigby?” you gasped, feeling the familiar feeling of panic settle over you. You’d felt it at the bridge the night before, and when being chased by the same people coming through that diner now. But now...now you had Bigby. Right?

You turned around and saw Bigby grabbing a metal pipe, shoving it through the handle that would open the backdoor. He reached up and wiped at his forehead, taking a few steps back. You slowly approached him, unsure of what to do. He seemed to remember your presence, and turned to face you, opening his mouth to speak.

But before he could say anything, the door opened before stopping due to the metal pipe. Bigby tensed, shoulders raising and fists clenching as he looked to the door. It didn’t move for a long, silent moment before barging open again, still being caught. That seemed to make Bigby spin around and grab your arms. 

His eyes were narrow as he looked at you. “Run back to the apartments,” he said, and you frowned, shaking your head.

“No...I won’t leave you,” you said, trying to sound brave. Your voice quivered though.

“I can handle myself, but you can’t,” he hissed before pausing, taking the pause to look right at you. He looked sure of himself...almost  _ too  _ sure. But you still saw a glint of fear in his eyes. You licked your lips, trying to speak but Bigby shoved you back. You almost fell, but you caught yourself. You would feel hurt, but right now, you were only scared. “Go!” Bigby yelled - no...growled. It was so animalistic...so  _ angry  _ that it made you nod, turning to run.

And run you did.

You sprinted down the alleyway, back down the path you’d followed only an hour ago. It felt weird to be running from the same people on the same path, but you didn’t mull on it too long. After all, there were people trying to fucking kidnap you.

Or worse.

So you ran down the alleyway, lungs burning and legs hurting but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t stop. You heard the door begging to open, and you heard Bigby yelling, but you didn’t look back. You couldn’t look back.

All you could do was run.

And all you could do was stop as a large van screeched to a stop at the end of the alleyway you were running towards. The doors were thrown open, revealing a number of people in the vehicle. Two jumped out, bolting right towards you.

You screeched to a stop, falling onto the ground from the sudden movement. Your palms scraped against the concrete as you tried to turn, but your ankle gave out from earlier. A loud yelp came from you as you collapsed, smacking your head on the floor. Black spots flickered in your vision as a sharp noise rang in your ears, making you wince.

The feeling of hands wrapping around your arms made you snap back to reality. You blinked away the spots in your vision to see Bigby fighting three hooded people, eyes flitting to you occasionally. He couldn’t stop fighting them, though, or he would be beaten down. 

He couldn’t stop them from taking you.

You let a scream rip from your throat as the people holding you dragged you back towards the van. The fight momentarily stopped as Bigby knocked one out cold with a right hook, followed by him grabbing the pipe and knocking another one out. That left one hooded figure, and you would feel hope if you weren’t already close to the van. 

“Bigby!” you cried as you struggled, trying to break free. Despite how hard you jumped and wiggled, their grip wouldn’t budge. 

You were going to be abducted. 

The back of your legs hit something hard, and you looked up to see the white of the van. Your heart dropped as something dark and soft wrapped around your head, cutting off your vision. There was silence in the van, no one speaking to one another. 

For some reason, that scared you more than if they were talking. 

“Bigby!” you screamed one last time, kicking your legs out in an attempt to break free. The harsh slide of the van doors made your blood turn cold, and adrenaline seemed to replace your breath. In a split decision, you decided to untense all your muscles.

You slid through their grip like a toddler throwing a fit, and the van door got caught on your ribs. It strung and you lost all your breath as the arms reached down and pulled you back, but you bought some time.

And even a few seconds could save your life.

There was a sudden roar, and you thought it was the engine revving to life, pronouncing your death with a sudden increase of volume. You felt all hope drop into your stomach, void of all purpose and will. Adrenaline had been rushing through you just moments ago, but now, it disappeared.

Even though you couldn’t see, you closed your eyes and accepted your loss.

But something happened… Something sharp dug into your side, although not intentionally as it pulled you away with care. It was urgent and desperate as it pulled you out of the van, with immaculate force that you could feel was possible of ripping you apart. The strength was so great that the hands from the hooded people were ripped away too, freeing you.

The first thing you did was rip off your blindfold as you knees hit the ground, a loud breath escaping your throat as you saw the alleyway. The sky was bright in your eyes, and you almost laughed at the hope being restored. “Bigby!” you cried, stumbling to your feet and turning.

He freed you! A quick glance revealed the hooded men unconscious by the door. How he did it, you didn’t quite know.

Well, until you looked towards the van.

There was Bigby, except his exposed arms were suddenly...a lot furrier. You furrowed your brow as you got back to your feet, stumbling back in confusion and fear. He was holding the throat of one of the hooded men, except his fingers didn’t have nails.

No, they had claws.

What the...what the fuck? Were you tripping?

With deep breaths, you approached Bigby as he brought the hooded man higher, a growl coming from his throat. It was animalistic, angry, and, quite frankly, fucking terrifying. You swallowed roughly, reaching out for him.

“B-Bigby?” you asked, voice cracking. Almost immediately, the man’s head jerked to face you, and you stumbled backwards with a gasp.

His eyes were bright yellow, with the five o clock shadow he wore suddenly much more prominent. He looked...livid, and with a snarl, he revealed the sharp teeth he suddenly possessed.

Were you in fucking Twilight? Why the hell was there a  _ werewolf  _ in front of you?

Bigby only appeared angry with you for a moment, however, as recognition glimmered in his yellow irises. “Y/N?” he asked, voice deep and gruff. You somehow found the strength in you to nod, and suddenly, he looked very sad.

Your chest constricted.

But you only held his gaze for a moment. Something shone brightly inside the van, catching your eye. Confused, you looked over and saw.

A gun.

A man appeared from the drivers seat with a revolver in his hand. Time seemed to slow down as you registered the sight, allowing you to quickly realize the man was pointing it at Apparently-A-Werewolf Bigby. Even if he was some fucking creature, he saved your life and bought you breakfast. That at least deserved a warning that he was about to be shot.

You leapt forward, screaming, “Bigby! He has a gun!” But before you could even finish your sentence, the man had a shot, and he knew it.

There was a brief moment between the man pulling the trigger and the gunshot actually ringing out, but it was the harshest moment you’d experienced. Your hands wrapped around his arm, pulling him back as his head whipped to the source of the gun.

The bullet pierced his skin, and Bigby reeled back, dropping the man. For a moment, Bigby merely looked at the wound, seemingly confused. He didn’t scream, didn’t cry out. No, he simply looked.

He then growled, somehow managing to make a move towards the man with the gun. But in the time Bigby was shocked, he’d managed to reload. With the figure Bigby had held now in the car, you could see them getting situated and being ready to move.

But that didn’t stop the man from firing again.

And with this shot, Bigby dropped. Your eyes widened, a scream ripping from your throat as Bigby dropped to the ground. Gone was the fur and the yellow eyes. Now, the man was back to normal. 

Except now, blood was coating his white shirt. 

Now, he could die.

You looked to the van with absolute anger only to see the door being swung shut. It sped off, and for a moment, you feared they would come back around and abduct you. But they appeared to be pleased with what they’d done...which was possibly killing Bigby.

Eyes wide and heart loudly thumping in your ears, you collapsed next to Bigby and looked down at his face. His expression was contorted in pain, yet he was still breathing, still conscious. That gave you hope, and enough courage to look at his wound.

It was bleeding...badly too. You had to get him to a hospital, had to do  _ something. _

“Colin.” Wait...did he just speak? Confused, you looked back to Bigby’s face to see him peeking, eyelashes fluttering with unconsciousness. “Get...Colin,” he bit out, and you frowned, leaning closer.

“You need a hospital, Bigby,” you hissed, swallowing your fear for a moment. “You’re...you’re gonna die if you’re not treated.”

“Colin...can help,” Bigby insisted, and you shook your head with a loud huff.

“Bigby-”

“Get. Him,” he hissed, and for a moment, you swore you saw... the wolf. It made your heart stutter and blood freeze for a moment, and you knew he noticed. He didn’t speak however, instead closing his eyes. Getting him to the hospital was clearly not a concern of his, for whatever reason. Was he fearful they would notice his whole Werewolf thing? 

You didn’t feel like having him held for testing and be transported to Area 51, so you nodded. “Okay...where is he?”

 

You were surprised to see that Bigby had the room right next to your...current setup. You were briefly amazed he hadn’t noticed someone had broken into the room, but it was only for a moment. After all, you had bigger things to worry about.

For the moment, Bigby was being transported to the apartments by the security guard. When you’d first entered the building, the fucker had been fast asleep, but upon your screaming, he’d woken up and gotten to work rather quickly. How he slept so much you had no idea.

Not entirely worried about Bigby being kidnapped by the hooded fuckers, you pulled the key he’d given you out of your pocket. If you really wanted, you could rob the place and be set in a motel for a few days to recover. 

But you didn’t.

You didn’t rob him and leave him.

You really couldn’t, not after witnessing him turn into a werewolf. You had a few questions now. 

Bigby had told you that Colin would be in his apartment, which didn’t really make much sense considering it was a one bedroom apartment and you hadn’t heard anyone from the night before. But you didn’t question it as you unlocked the door and pushed it open.

“Colin?! Bigby sent me. He’s been hurt and he said he needs-”

You paused in the middle of the were-man’s apartment. You expected to see a man, or woman as you weren’t discriminatory, sitting in Bigby’s apartment. Instead, there was a pig waking up next to the small TV. 

“What the fuck?” you said, about ready to give up. You’d nearly been abducted TWICE today, witnessed a police officer turn into a fucking werewolf, and now...now the were-man asked you to find his pig Colin.

What the fuck. 

You pressed your hand against your forehead, completely befuddled and tired. The pig blinked as it stared at you with a dumb expression, almost as though it were as confused as you. And you guessed maybe it was.

You would be awfully confused if you were a pig living in a small apartment in the middle of New York too. 

“Why the fuck did Bigby send me to get a  _ pig? _ ” you groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose. With a sigh, you shook your head and turned on your heel, deciding that the security guard surely needed help getting Bigby here. He’d insisted on not going to the hospital. “Jesus Christ, and I thought I was addicted to drugs. Bigby has a fucking pig named Colin, and sent me running through fucking New York to get him.”

“Excuse you, my name  _ is  _ Colin, and you’re the one  _ talking  _ to a pig.”

You stopped. 

Did you just hear…

You slowly turned, eyebrows furrowed and mouth agape. The pig was now standing up, slowly walking towards you with narrowed, angry eyes. Could pigs even  _ look  _ angry?

You didn't know...but this one sure as hell looked  _pissed._

“What the…”

“Yes, I’m a talking pig.” The pig stopped in front of you, eyes traveling up to your face. “Now where’s Bigby?”

 

Bigby woke up with a groan, a sharp pain stabbing him in the side. He’d felt that pain plenty of times in his long, long life, yet it didn’t make it any less painful. Silver bullets never were fun to be shot with. 

There were soft whispers from around him, conversing with one another. Occasionally, one voice, a woman’s, rose in volume and intensity before being shushed, and after a moment, he recognized it.

Y/N.

He bolted up now, eyes wide with alarm. Shit, were you okay? How much had you seen? And most importantly, were you shot too? There’d been two gunshots, and he didn’t remember the first all too well. 

After a moment of quick thoughts and intense nerves, Bigby took in his surroundings and realized he was in his bedroom. It was dark, only a sliver of light coming from his window. His internal clock told him it was late, so he must’ve been unconscious for hours.

Confused and worried, he pushed away the sheets of his bed and pressed his feet to the ground. His movements sent a sharp stab of pain into his side, and looking down revealed that he was shirtless. Numerous bandages were wrapped around his stomach, a stain of red verifying how dangerous the gunshot had been.

But that didn’t matter.

Finding those hooded sons of bitches mattered, and stopping them before they killed more Fables mattered even more. They’d already taken too many lives, and now they were going after both him and you, an innocent bystander. 

They had their eyes set on something of great value.

With a groan, Bigby get to his feet. The voices cut out now, surely hearing that he was awake. If you really were there, he’d have to prepare some whole speech about how the hooded figures drugged you and everything you saw was a hallucination. He already had a great story prepared. Storytelling came with years of police work, after all.

Bigby pushed open his bedroom door to reveal an occupied kitchen. Doctor Swineheart was the first to appear, seated at his kitchen table with an unopen box of Chinese food prepared before him. You then appeared, comfortable and slowly eating with chopsticks. You clearly didn’t know how to use the, and he would’ve laughed.

Your gaze went from his eyes to his wound, eyebrows furrowing and lips thinning for a moment. You looked so young in that moment, so naive and full of innocence. But he knew you weren’t innocent.

Any innocence had been taken away with the kidnapped Fables. 

Bigby opened his mouth, prepared to brush off the events leading up to this moment until a snort caught his attention. His stomach flipped as he pushed open his door even more, revealing Colin laying on the couch.

With no glimmer.

Your eyes seemed to follow his gaze, landing on the fully-pig Colin. You swallowed your food, pursing your lips.

“So, when were you gonna tell me you had a talking pig and you were...ya know…” You turned your gaze to Bigby, meeting his eyes. “A werewolf?”

You smirked.

...a  _werewolf?_

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I TOLD YA'LL IT WAS GONNA BE AN INTENSE CHAPTER  
> did i live up to my promises?  
> DID YOU LIKE WHAT YOU READ?  
> please leave kudos! kudos give me motivation to update this, and help get this fic noticed!  
> DID YOU ~~ REALLY ~~ LIKE WHAT YOU READ?  
> tell me your thoughts! did you like this chapter, did you not, etc...  
> AND MOST IMPORTANTLY...  
> have a great day/night~~~  
> thank you for reading <3

**Author's Note:**

> remember: if this chapter gets good reception, i will continue!  
> leave kudos, as they help get this story out there!  
> leave a comment, as they help motivate authors!  
> and have a great day/night~!  
> thanks for reading (‘∀’●)♡


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